Designated Driver
by Moczo
Summary: America gets to see first-hand just how much of a BAMF England can be. Kink meme de-anon


Kink meme deanon: "America discovers just how badass England can be." I couldn't resist. (My very first Hetalia non-anonymous fic! Shocking!)

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America was England's designated driver. It wasn't the best job in the world, especially since the only payment he got was blackmail, but someone had to do it and the one time it had been France's job he'd gotten just as drunk and that is what really caused the Great Fire of London. Not wanting any of his major cities to get razed, America was more than happy to chaperone.

Tonight it was just England and America, which meant the likelihood of property damage was decreased by 95%. In fact, England and America's Drunk Nights Out™ tended to follow a very simple pattern:

1) England gets drunk;  
2) England starts yelling at America;  
3) England passes out in his own vomit while yelling at America;  
4) America takes England home;  
5) England forgets anything ever happened;  
6) America is scarred for life.

It had gotten to the point where America could usually rant along with England about just what he'd been doing wrong, or had ever done wrong, and sometimes even what he was likely to do wrong in the future that would just piss England off. America wondered if England was capable of doing anything other than complaining.

Then one night he found out.

It had been a Drunk Night Out™ just like any other. England was getting past the happy buzzed stage ("I looooove you, mmhmm, loooooooove!") and into the angry drunk stage ("I can't believe *hick* you left me you stupid wanker stupid stupid stupid stupid…"), which was America's cue to get more alcohol to get England through the angry drunk stage and into the depressed drunk stage.

America stood up to get the bartender's attention. He froze when he felt a very firm hand caress his butt. With a side glance to England, he couldn't help but notice that both of England's hands were firmly on the bar. Which meant…

He finally took notice of the guy sitting on the other side of him. Tough shit from the look of him, the kind of bar crawler who would punch anyone who looked at him funny because he knew his friends were right there and more than willing to back him up.

"Um," said America.

"Niiiice," said the redneck, squeezing. His friends all laughed. "You got an ass like a girl!"

America was still processing this information ("My ass is NOT feminine!") when England leapt from the barstool and was suddenly pinning Redneck to the bar _with a knife at his throat how the fuck did that get there?_"Touch what's mine again and I will cut your throat and drink your blood in front of your face while you suffocate and die," England hissed.

America's brain was torn between making a _Twilight_ reference and the emoticon D: .

The other truckers stood up, vaguely threatening. To the casual observer, bets were on the group, as the six large muscular men should have easily been able to take out one scrawny Brit. However, the casual observer would have been out a lot of money, considering England's next move was to grab an empty bottle of whiskey and smash it into a sharp edge over the head of a second trucker. Moving surprisingly quickly for someone so drunk, he kicked the third biker in the kneecap (and it made an audible cracking noise which made America wince), smashed the remainder of the whiskey bottle onto the fourth, grabbed a bottle of wine and drank some while easily dodging the remaining two before grabbing their heads and slamming them together.

By the end of the fight, which lasted approximately half a minute, England had completely stomped upon the group while having drank an entire bottle of wine.

"Um," said America again, who hadn't moved an inch. _Damn, that was hot!_

England looked at him thoughtfully before striding over, grabbing America's hips, and roughly spinning and pinning him to the bar so America nearly got his head slammed into his drink. "Erk?"

"Mine," he purred victoriously. Then he passed out, completely wasted, and America didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

One thing was for certain, though: America was going to make sure that England did _not_ forget about _this_ in the morning.


End file.
